That night, as the last embers of the campfires waned, Ginger was told by Elizabeth to gather all the convict soldiers. The convicts, Elizabeth and Frances, all met by one of the fires, a little away from the rest of the soldiers. There was no one else.

The convicts were invited to sit by the fire, with Elizabeth and Frances. Ginger was worried. Martin’s promises aside, she’d seen the little brunette send packs of Alavari fleeing and throw actual bolts of lightning at her enemies. Elizabeth was no slouch either in combat and nobody could outrun, or out-arm wrestle her.

It didn’t help that Ginger noticed that while both girls were seated comfortably, they seemed rather tense.

Frances especially seemed on edge, her eyes were locked on the flames, only blinking once in a while.

Elizabeth rubbed the sides of her temples, swallowed, and straightened up. “It’s come to our attention that we haven’t addressed the elephant in the room—sorry, it’s an Otherworlder phrase. Frances and I haven’t explained to you how we plan to treat you all, given your… your…” Elizabeth’s fists clenched and she groaned, “Given this stupid useless piece of magic bullcrap that some asshole placed on your skin and wrote an equally stupid contract!”

Ginger stared at her commander and uttered the words that she was sure every convict was thinking.

“Uh, what?”

“Yes, I hate this contract! I can’t ask for your input without knowing if you’re going to tell me what you think I want to hear or what you think! I’m worried that giving you an order would make you overexert yourself beyond reason because you’re worried about what I might do to you! This shit stinks,” Elizabeth ranted, words firing a mile a minute, her usual sunny smile wiped by a snarl.

Wordlessly, Frances took her friend’s hand and Ginger saw their commander take a deep breath, and squeeze the hand back.

Frances looked up from the fire. Ginger blinked, there was a pain in those amber eyes that seemed… familiar. “And to be clear, myself, Martin and Ayax hold a similar opinion, which we wanted to make clear to you. Unfortunately, while I can change the marks, I can’t undo the contracts entirely. I’m not skilled enough to break them. Not only that, I know that at least right now, the War Council might charge me if I do so. What I have done is talk to my mother, Edana Firehand and asked her to put pressure on them to change this practice. I don’t know how long it will take, or if it will help, but I will keep reminding her until you are no longer bound to those marks.” Frances swallowed. “Does anybody have any questions right now?”

A burly hand at the back of the crowd of convicts was raised and Frances gestured for the man to speak. Ginger recognized him as Borris, a former highwayman, a robber of road travellers and carriages.

“Uh, I hate to point this out and this might sound strange coming from a former highwayman like me, but you do realize that a few of us are dangerous criminals, right?”

“Yeah, but we’re not a prison, we’re an army and you are soldiers. You deserve the same rights, and we cannot fight well if you don’t have those rights.” Ginger narrowed her eyes as Frances took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “But to be honest, there’s a personal reason why I, and my friends, refuse to use the command seal. You see, one day, there was a little girl who was born out of wedlock. Her mother… maybe she loved this little girl at one point, but she started to beat the little girl, whenever she made a mistake, whenever she got on her nerves. She married another man, who followed in his wife’s footsteps. They fed that girl scraps, kept her in a closet, and made that girl cook for them, clean their house, and all other tasks. If that girl made one mistake, it was another beating.”

Ginger’s eyes, and the eyes of a number of convicts widened, as Frances crossed her arms and met the gazes of her soldiers.

“That little girl was me. I… I don’t expect you to believe me, or trust me because of this. My bruises and broken bones have since healed. My remaining wounds are just… they’re memories and… and thoughts that I’m trying to un-learn.” Frances clutched herself tighter. “I just know some of you are confused and curious as to why we are treating you this way and I want to let you know why, and answer any questions if you have any. I… I will try my best to answer them.”

Ginger raised her hand and said, “So… you don’t want to go back over there, obviously, but why fight and kill the Demon King? You’d just be in more danger. And I thought the Otherworlders were fighting so they could get a reward.”

Frances nodded. “Yes, the other Otherworlders and Displaced are fighting to get a reward. What you don’t know is that if the Demon King is killed, I can stay in Durannon. As to why I’m not hiding… I can’t hide from the war. I’m Edana’s student for a reason. You’ve seen my power. Besides, Erisdale, Erlenberg… this is going to be my home. I need to protect it.”

Another hand raised, this time from the convict Ginger recognized as Gareth.

“Then… why are you fighting, Miss Elizabeth? You don’t see the type to fight for money.”

Elizabeth scratched the back of her head nervously. “The Alavari are conquering human homes and they’ve attacked Erlenberg. I want to protect them, do something good with what I’ve learned here. I want to defend my friends Martin and Ayax’s homes. Help Frances win the war so she can stay. Yeah, that’s it.”

There were more questions. Most of them were minor, but at the end, Ginger had quickly realized something.

Whether the teens were trustworthy or not, they’d managed to create an… understanding between themselves and the convicts. And despite her misgivings, Ginger also thought that they were being sincere.

The question was, if the teens were skilled enough to uphold their own wishes.

---

“Yo, Martin.”

The knight jumped. He’d just been about to enter his tent. Ginger’s presence beside it was not expected.

The convict was regarding him, with an unreadable look. “You… thank you. For asking Frances and Elizabeth to talk to us.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry we can’t do more.”

“You’ve done plenty.” Ginger winced, “Plenty good I mean. Good food, explaining your orders, giving us actual weapons. That stuff.”

“Well, I’m glad we could help,” said Martin, smiling.

Ginger nodded, her expression still unreadable, her hands on her hips. Her eyes were on him, as if examining him, or waiting for something?

“Um, do you still need me?” Martin asked.

Ginger smiled coyly, her voice taking up a sultry quality. “Well that’s up to you. You said you were interested in me earlier. I’ve been wondering if I’m interested in you and I think I am.”

“Excuse me… what are you suggesting?” Martin asked, even as his mind quickly honed in on how the convict was leaning forward, and crossing her arms to… to emphasize her bosom.

“What do you think I’m suggesting, sir knight?”

Martin could hear his heart starting to pound. “You want us to initiate intimate sexual relations. That is—”

Ginger cut him off with a laugh that was raucous, grating and yet, it seemed the happiest she’d been. “I do know what that means and yes, I do want to fuck you. Or whatever you’re comfortable with. I have needs to be satisfied, and I bet you do too. We don’t have to say we’re in love. Just two adults having some fun in a crazy war.”

Martin’s eyes widened, his blood rushing through his body. This was not how he expected his first… proposition? Event? This was not how he had ever imagined things to go for him, but… he looked at Ginger. Her hair was shorn short, even shorter than Frances’s. She had definitely had seen better days, but there was still an allure to her wide-hips and shapely figure. And given how she was gazing at him, she definitely found him attractive, which was a plus.

He nearly said yes. Part of his mind yelled at him for being so cautious, but he yanked on his chin, forcing him to meet Ginger’s expectant gaze.

“A few things first. If I agree, I’ll be asking Frances if she could charm us so nothing we may regret happens. She won’t ask questions, and I think she’ll be happy to do so. Are you alright with her knowing?”

Ginger blinked, before bursting into giggles, tittering mockingly, “Oh look at you being all responsible. Yes, I’d be delighted if she could charm us. Then we can really go, all the way.”

Martin couldn’t help but smile at that, but he bit it down, because his next point was a lot more serious.

“Great. There’s also another thing.” The knight swallowed. “Ginger, I’m definitely interested, but are you sure you’re alright with this? Have you considered the difference in our… our positions?”

Ginger’s smile disappeared into a scowl. “You mean that you’re a noble and I’m a convict?”

“Sorry, that’s not what I mean at all. What I mean is…” Martin spluttered, and rubbed his hair with both hands, trying to find the words. “I know I have said I don’t plan on using the seal on you. But just me just having the ability to force you to obey me means that any consent you give is by definition, under duress.”

The convict’s mouth opened and she staggered back, arms falling to her side. Martin, winced, but he forged on. He owed it to Ginger and his principles. “Do you understand? I… I’d like your company. I really do, but I really really don’t want to force you in any way.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Ginger shut her mouth and wolf-whistled. “Damn, has anybody told you that you are hot when you talk responsible?”

Martin spluttered. “Um, no. People don’t usually um, proposition me.” He averted his gaze. “Ever.”

“Wait, you’re… how is a fine catch like you a virgin?”

“Please don’t shout it to the camp,” Martin hissed, knowing his face was red.

Ginger winced and reached out to squeeze Martin’s shoulder. He flinched, but relaxed. She was surprisingly gentle.

“I’m sorry. I am… I’m touched. Truly. I—I can’t remember the last time someone was so kind.” She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “And I’m fine with this, messed up as it is. So if you’re alright with it, then why don’t we talk to Frances?”

“Are you sure?” Martin asked, gently taking Ginger’s hand.

Ginger nodded, smiling softly. Martin found it alien on her stressed features, and yet it was probably the prettiest he’d ever seen her. “Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything. So why don’t we visit your friend and I’ll show you what you’ve been missing out?”

“I’d love that,” he whispered, his heart racing as Ginger led him to Frances’s tent.

The next morning, Elizabeth and Ayax had been washing up together by a stream and arrived at the fire pit together.

“Good morning, Frances.” Elizabeth blinked as she noticed her friend didn’t even seem to notice her.

Ayax frowned. “Um, cuz is something wrong?”

“Oh no, I’m fine it’s just… Um.” Frances flushed and she took another bite out of her porridge, but she didn’t look away from something in the distance. Elizabeth followed Frances’s gaze across the firepit they shared to Martin’s tent.

Martin’s tent, which looked quite normal at first. At least that was until Elizabeth and Ayax realized there were two pairs of boots outside of it.

Ayax chuckled. “Ohoho, I wonder who—”

Ginger, in a simple shirt and trousers, with Martin’s spare cloak wrapped around her, opened the tent flap and slipped out as quietly as she could. She stuffed her bare feet into her boots, turned around and met the stares of the three girls.

Sighing, she tightened her drawstrings, wrapped the cloak around her and hobbled over to them. She bowed stiffly to Frances. “Um, thank you for the silencing charms, Frances. They were very useful.”

“I’m glad they worked.” Frances swallowed and in a forced calm, asked, “You… did you have a good time?”

The girls listened in horrified fascination as Ginger, smiling dreamily, said, “Oh yes. We goofed it at first, but then it got pretty good and um.” Ginger blinked and shook her head. “Actually let Martin know that if he’s alright with it, I’m happy if he tells you all about it. I’ll… I’ll see you later for the morning strategy meeting.”

“Is he… awake?” Elizabeth stammered.

“Yes. He’ll be out in a moment. Uh… I’ll see you in a few minutes.” With that, Ginger scooted away, still walking not entirely normally.

Martin staggered out of his tent a second afterward, properly dressed, but with a ridiculously contented grin on his face. He wiped his face with a towel he’d soaked in his water flask and sauntered-hobbled to his friends, where he plopped himself down.

“Morning everybody.”

Ayax smirked, one eyebrow raised slyly. “So I take it you and Ginger stayed up all night... getting to know each other. Repeatedly.”

Frances choked on her water with a quiet meep, but didn’t leave. Elizabeth covered her mouth, her cheeks bright red.

Martin blinked and his brain, which was apparently still in the process of waking up, clicked and his smile disappeared. “You guessed? Aren’t you—”

Ayax laughed. “Any couple coming out of a tent looking as rumpled and smug as you two... I’d have to be a moron not to guess, regardless of the genders involved.” She stalked forward and sat down beside Martin. “Now spill,” she hissed in a tone that brooked no argument.

Martin swallowed and began to detail the events of the last night, watched by the wide, extremely curious eyes of his friends.

For whatever reason, the morning strategy meeting went quite amiably. Though Ginger, and now Martin seemed to be more in favor of returning to Erlenberg, they did all decide that at least one more skirmish was a good idea.

Thus, their force had set up by the main road through the Pinewoods to Erlenberg. The force on the east of the road was commanded by Martin. The forces on the west were led by Frances and Ginger. Elizabeth was watching out on who or what would be incoming down the road with a small escort. Ayax was with their small number of cavalry.

Ginger, having noticed Frances wasn’t quite able to meet her gaze, giggled, her eyes twinkling. “Wow, you really pumped out everything from Martin, did you?”

Frances blushed. “Ayax did.”

The convict chuckled, her smirk fading into a smile. “Thank you for your help by the way. Your spells worked perfectly. Though I have to ask, have you ever tried them yourself?”

Sighing, Frances shook her head.

“What? A beautiful girl like you never got asked out?” Ginger asked.

Frances turned away from the road. “I’m not pretty, Ginger.”

Ginger stared at Frances with a quizzical expression. “Huh, you're serious. Then again you are an Otherworlder. Guess it’s different over there.” The former convict put her hands on her hips.“Frances, you do realize most Erisdalian men and women would find you hot?”

“That can’t be true,” Frances said.

Ginger blinked and let out a long exhale. “Still cannot get used to the fact the Firehand is your mother. Anyway! Erisdalians prefer that tanned skin that you and Martin have. They also like lithe, athletic figures and brown or blonde hair. Haven’t you noticed most of us convicts have those features?”

Frances had in fact noticed that and that the darker skin tone seemed to be common with Erisdalians. But she never thought her own skin tone was appealing to a segment of the population in Durannon.

“Then why do people find my mother, um, hot?” Frances asked.

Ginger chuckled. “Same reason they find my pale complexion and big boobs hot, exoticism. Once in a while people want something different and a little alien.”

Frances blinked as a thought struck her. “You know, strangely enough, you’d be considered traditionally beautiful back in my world.”

Ginger snorted. “No way. Not with the lines on my face and my hips and boobs.”

Frances glanced at Ginger’s hourglass figure and giggled. “Well yeah your hair could be longer but men in my world seem to have a preference for shapely women with your type of figure. Most also prefer paler skin.”

“Huh, no wonder you didn’t think it was weird that Martin was interested in me. I suppose that old saying is true. That uhhh…”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?” Frances asked.

“Yeah! That one. You may not feel like you’re pretty but someone else might. Or you make think you’re pretty but someone else may think you’re ugly.” Ginger frowned. “I suppose it’s kinda silly to think about whose hotter and whether you’re sexy or not is that’s the case.”

Frances stared at the convict. Her thoughts were stirring, wondering why she found herself so ugly and undesirable when beauty was so subjective and a matter of belief.

“That’s… really deep of you. Maybe after the war you should be a writer or speaker of some kind.”

Ginger frowned, not out of annoyance, but with a kind of confused surprise.

“That’s the second time you fellas said that. Not exactly, but Martin said that I say things that make him think last night.”

“Wait you were talking while—”

Ginger waved Frances off. “Oh no. This is between sessions. It’s actually one of the best parts. The talking and cuddling. You’re really missing out. I could ask if he’s interested in inviting you to join—”

“No thank you. Martin… is like an older brother to me. The older brother and best friend I’ve long wished for.” Frances looked at the convict, careful not to glare, but she also had a serious look on her face. “I will happily cast the necessary spells so you can both continue, and I won’t ask questions. I will remind you, though, that I care deeply for him.”

Ginger nodded as solemnly as Frances had ever seen her, her smirk having faded.

“He’s a great bloke. I… I can’t say I know how I feel and he feels about me… being a convict and all that. But yeah. I understand why you care.” Ginger swallowed. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”

“You’re welcome.” Frances recalled the convict’s words about beauty and her own views on her looks, and added, “thank you for sharing your thoughts on beauty.”

“Would you like more?” Ginger asked, smirking again.

“Maybe later,” Frances said, returning to watching the road. They had around three hundred and thirty people now: one hundred convict soldiers with muskets and pikes, fifty heavily armored men at arms, thirty-two cavalry troopers with carbines and sabers, another sixty footsoldiers, and another eighty-eight musketeers. If she was remembering her lessons from Forowena well, this was a battalion.

One of their messengers ran up to Frances. She saluted and in a low voice said, “Elizabeth says, she’s spotted a battalion moving down the road and has given the go-ahead for the ambush. They’re not at full strength, though, and at two oversized companies. Two-hundred and fifty soldiers in total.”

“Nobody behind them?” Ginger asked.

“No. We’re clear,” said the messenger.

“Good job, Helena,” said Ginger. “Have you already told Martin?”

“Yes. He’s ready to go as well,” said Helena.

“Great. Get to your position, then,” said Ginger.

Helena saluted, leaving Ginger and Frances to peer at the road.

“I hope this goes well,” Ginger muttered.

“You and me both,” said Frances. She touched Ivy’s Sting, seeking reassurance from her faithful companion. “I think we have a good chance, though.”